Love, There Is Pain Involved
by Reiko Katsura
Summary: "Potter," Malfoy said, as if he was relaying a delicate secret, "you should run." One-shot. HP/DM. NC-17.


**Title:** Love, There Is Pain Involved

**Author:** Reiko K.

**Pairing:** Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy

**Word Count:** ~6,515

**Rating:** NC-17

**Warnings:** EXPLICIT NON-CON. If rape scenes squick you then you need to hit that back button. I'm trusting you all to know your limitations.

**Summary:** _"Potter," Malfoy said, as if he was relaying a delicate secret, "you should run."_

**Author's Notes:** Written for the _kink_n_squick 2013 Christmas fest_. My recipient was Dragontara, who requested agonophilia. I used her prompt very, very loosely (see warning). Fic is categorized as EWE. Title is from "Abuse Pt. 1 (There is Pain Involved)" by Marilyn Manson.

I owe an insane amount of of gratitude to Híril and Tash for beta-reading. This was written and beta'd within the span of a few days so I expect a few typos might have slipped past us. Let me know if you find any.

**Disclaimer:** This is non-profitable fanwork. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

_Fantasy mirrors desire. __Imagination reshapes it._

—Mason Cooley

* * *

Harry was running.

For a long time it was the only thing he was actively conscious of. He was running because he was in danger and he needed to get away. It was as if his brain was incapable of processing anything else, his thoughts a streaming litany of _run, run faster, just run. _

Harry ran until his legs hurt, his lungs burned, and his heart sprinted in his chest. Every pull of air agonized and every motion forward hurt but he did not stop. He knew that something bad was going to happen if he did. He didn't know what exactly but he couldn't shake off the dread that shrouded him when he as much as thought of stopping, of standing still.

So he ran—past wilting shrubbery and walls of hedging, through dead leaves and twigs that tore at the flesh of his feet. He nicked his face on the branches of low-hanging willows, stumbled over the coiling roots of shallowly rooted trees, skinned his hands against the barbed vines that twined alongside the hedged walls. He ran, rounding corner after corner, tearing through endless twining paths, no end in sight. It took him a long time to realize that he'd seen something like this before and the cognizance stopped him dead in his tracks.

He was in a maze—in a _labyrinth—_and he didn't know how he got there or how to get out.

Suddenly the need to stop, the need to assess the situation and replace the instinct that'd been driving him thus far with rationality overwhelmed him. He doubled over and retched, gasps like bile tearing out of his throat. Everything hurt, from the gashes on his feet to the welts on his face, and it took every iota of strength he possessed to steamroll over the pain and the fear and ignore it so that he could _think_.

Awareness trickled in soon after; fragments of memories that clicked together like scattered puzzle pieces. That there were some pieces missing—that his memory was not entirely intact—became instantly clear. When he closed his eyes and focused he could almost feel the gaps in his mind, fuzzy at the edges and hollow like a vacant well.

_My mind's been tampered with, _he thought in dismay, _and whoever did it hadn't bothered to hide it._

Harry knew that it didn't bode well for him. He'd been an auror—he'd seen his fair share of crimes involving hostile obliviation and memory forgery. The only time a malefactor didn't bother trying to cover his tracks was when they were certain they wouldn't get caught. Such confidence, such_daring_—and towards an ex-auror, no less—was perturbing.

He surveyed his surroundings desperately, senses seeking out clues. He didn't bother trying to apparate away—he could feel the anti-apparition wards now that he was no longer disoriented and a cursory inspection confirmed that he didn't have his wand on him anyway.

Harry shivered. He hadn't felt this helpless, this terrified, in a long time. The constant rustling of grass and leaves and the whistling of the wind between the trees made him anxious, made him tense. It was dark out, the sky a deep ocean blue that stretched out endlessly. There was no hint of stars, no suggestion of a moon; all semblance of light was hidden behind wispy clouds that curled in ominous shapes.

Shadows lurked at the edges of his vision, flashing beside him, behind him, beneath him, casting mottled dark spots against the foliage. It was cold too, the winter frost like a mist around him, a coiling vapor. It penetrated his flesh and bones like thick tendrils of ice and burned him the way only the bitterest chill could, settling beneath his clothes and skin.

He pushed on, walking quickly along the gnarling path, arms curled around his form in a fruitless pursuit of warmth. He tried to look for an exit but could barely see five feet in front of him, let alone a way out. Dark silhouettes shifted as he walked, trailed behind him, followed. He picked up his pace in fear that that they'd try to overtake him. His fingers itched for his wand.

The wind whispered around him, carrying with it ill-omened sounds. It wasn't until he reached the end of the path, coming to another tall wall of thorns and leaves, that the tune of the wind twisted and sharpened and he could determine the shapes of the sounds.

_Harry, _it hissed_. Harry. Harry. Harry._

It was calling his _name_.

Harry didn't think—he just ran.

His breath ghosted in front of him as he backtracked and rounded another corner. The wind whipped around him viciously, chanting his name, calling him back, prompting him forward. It grew louder as he sprinted through the dizzying trails of the labyrinth, its tenor changing from a whisper to an earsplitting shriek. _Harry! _it screeched at him. _Harry Potter!_

Harry's fear was at its peak; it thrummed through his veins, pounded in his chest, made his eyes burn. His mind went blank from stark terror, reducing him to the state he had once been in, when all he could think was _run, run faster, just run, runrunrunrun. _The words were a looping spiral in the dark space his head had become.

Another long stretch of road, another sharp corner, a turn—and Harry stopped. His steps faltered as he fell into a clearing, rounded and wide like a dome. It spread out in a perfect circle, its hedged borders taller than his eye could see. Moreover, it was _alive_; Harry could see that the trees were lavished with fruit and that the undergrowth was wild with blossoms. The heads of flowers were scattered across a healthy, tidy sward and there didn't seem to be a weed in sight. Harry could hear the chirping of birds and trilling of crickets, could smell the perfume of orchids and lavender. It was also _warm_, as if a spell had been cast to keep the cold out.

It made the hairs stand on the back of his neck, goosebumps erupt across his skin, and his legs itch with the need to flee. His dread only worsened when he realized that there were no other openings besides the one behind him. He was at a dead end and he didn't doubt that he'd been lead there.

It took him a moment to realize that it was _too _silent, and for him to remember the reason why.

There was no wind. It had stopped circling him and calling his name the moment he entered this place.

Harry whirled around in alarm, then cried out. He had turned just in time to see the vines on both side of the wall cross over, stitching across to seal him in.

Harry was trapped.

"My, my. Would you look at what I've found?"

Harry's head whipped around so fast his neck cracked.

Draco Malfoy stood in the middle of the clearing, encased by a sliver of moonlight that illuminated his hair and made his skin glow. It did nothing to hide the sneer that curled at his lips or the malicious glee that sparkled in his eyes. He took a small step forward and Harry took two steps back.

"Malfoy?"

"Harry Potter," he continued as if he hadn't heard him, "roaming around my gardens, trapped like a _rat_."

"What the bloody hell is going on, Malfoy?" Harry snapped before the meaning of Malfoy's words dawned on him and he narrowed his eyes. _"You_ brought me here." It wasn't a question.

The look he shot Harry spoke volumes of how much of an idiot Malfoy thought he was. "Age certainly hasn't made you any smarter," he said. He took another step forward but Harry held his ground this time.

"What's the meaning of this, Malfoy?" Harry demanded. It just didn't make any _sense_. While he and Malfoy weren't on the best of terms they certainly weren't on the worst terms either. Their sons were best friends for fuck's sake. Harry desperately tried to recall anything he might have done to Malfoy to warrant this (_whatever this was_, he thought), but every time he tried to grab at a memory it flitted away like a strand of seaweed in the ocean, skirting around his mental prodding and burying itself deeper into the depths of his mind. The harder he tried to remember the more it hurt, the strain becoming a piercing throb in his temples.

Harry quickly realized that his more recent memories of Malfoy were _gone_, as if someone had plucked every aspect of Malfoy's existence these past few years out of his head. He couldn't recall seeing him, talking to him or even thinking about him. His last memory of seeing Malfoy was over four years ago at Al's twelfth birthday party—Malfoy had beckoned him aside to discuss something but Harry couldn't remember what.

"What have you done to me?" Harry rasped, his fingers clenching at his sides.

"Nothing you didn't ask for," he said.

Harry was pretty fucking sure he hadn't done anything to deserve _this_.

"This excuse for a conversation bores me," Malfoy said. He stood straighter, cracked his knuckles, and leaned forward. Then he drew his wand. "Potter," he said, as if he was relaying a delicate secret, "you should run."

As much as he loathed the idea of running away, Harry tried anyway. The trouble with running inside a dome was that there was nowhere _to _run. Nowhere to hide, either.

He could probably duck behind one of the larger trees, but then how long would it take for Malfoy to find him? Twenty seconds? Thirty if he was lucky? Harry surveyed the clearing but there was nothing he could use and nowhere he could escape. He was trapped and the both of them knew it.

"Just tell me what you want!" Harry shouted, whirling around.

Malfoy was right in front of him. He threw himself at Harry, knocking them both to the ground. Harry grunted as he fell on a large root and scrambled to get away. Malfoy wouldn't budge; he bracketed Harry's legs with his own, grabbed his wrists and pinned them over his head, pressing him down with the weight of his body. Harry struggled—he kicked his legs, thrashed his arms, bucked his hips, but Malfoy didn't give him an inch. It shouldn't have been possible. While Malfoy was taller he was also slimmer; he didn't have the bulk and muscles that Harry had. He should have been able to overpower him or, at the very least, push him away. The fact that he couldn't meant a number of things, none of them good.

"Get off me!" Harry shouted, jerking wildly. Malfoy's hold on his right hand slackened and he managed to wrestle his arm free. He punched Malfoy square in the jaw and Malfoy's face snapped to the side, a red bruise blooming over the area. He swiveled towards Harry and the look in his eyes made Harry shudder.

Next thing Harry knew there was a fist connecting with his face. Fire burst across his skin and he could feel blood pouring from his nose. His eyes sealed shut and he groaned.

"Tosser," Malfoy said.

Harry opened his eyes just in time to see another fist flying his way. He managed to shove against Malfoy and deflect the hit, but he still couldn't get away. He kneed him in the stomach and Malfoy let out a wheezing_ oof_. He backhanded him in his response and Harry's eyes blurred as his teeth bit into his tongue and copper painted his mouth.

"You struggle beautifully," Malfoy panted, securing Harry's arms and legs again. He pressed his body more firmly against Harry's, restraining him, holding him down, and _thrust _against him. Harry's eyes flew wide. He felt ice form in his stomach and bile rush to his throat as Malfoy _humped _him. He could feel a certain hardness stabbing against his stomach that Harry knew wasn't a wand. He became dizzy with the implication of what Malfoy was trying to do.

Harry's mind went blank. He knew he should be strategizing, should be coming up with a way to get Malfoy off him and make his escape but he couldn't _think_. The irrationality of the entire situation gave him the ludicrous feeling of wanting to laugh. It just didn't make any _sense. _None of it did.

Malfoy had brought him here to rape him.

Malfoy was trying to _rape_ him.

Malfoy _wanted _to rape him.

It didn't seem believable no matter how many times he rephrased it.

What the hell was going on?

Harry was pulled out of his shock by a hand on his groin. Sometime during his freak-out Malfoy had unbuttoned his trousers and pushed them some ways down. Harry could feel the warmth of Malfoy's hand over his pants as he rubbed him through the material—trying to accomplish what, Harry didn't know. He was staring at his ministrations with unabashed heat, murmuring something Harry couldn't hear. Harry took advantage of his distraction and slammed his head against Malfoy's.

Harry gasped as pain exploded in the middle of his forehead and spots danced in front of his eyes. His eyes blurred from it but he didn't care because Malfoy had gotten off him to clutch at his head. Harry ignored the impulse to do the same and twisted out from under him. He grappled for the wand he could see a few feet away, not paying mind to Malfoy behind him or the hard rocks and roots beneath him. All he cared about was getting his hands on that wand and yes, he was so close, it was right there—

A boot crushed Harry's outstretched fingers and he screamed. He didn't even see the wand getting snatched up, or hear a spell being uttered. Harry barely had time to think before he was kicked to his back. His arms were rough handled to his sides and invisible chains fastened his hands to the soil. His wrists ached as he pulled at them but he remained fastened. Whatever spell Malfoy had cast on his hands was repeated on his legs, pinning him to the ground. He thrashed a few times for good measure and stilled when he realized that he wasn't getting out of there from brute strength alone.

"Well, aren't you a feisty one," Malfoy sneered at him.

"Fuck you," Harry spat. He lunged, succeeding only in worsening the wounds on his wrist. "What the fuck do you want with me?"

"I thought that was obvious," Malfoy said, sinking to his knees and crawling towards Harry. Harry froze when he trailed his wand along the curve of Harry's jaw, up to his temple, then down his face, to the arch of his throat. Harry swallowed and the tip dug in.

"Why are you doing this?" Harry rasped. He didn't dare move a single muscle.

Malfoy looked at him and the shadows that flickered in his eyes were indecipherable. "You know the answer to that," he said, setting his wand aside.

"No, I don't, Malfoy! Tell me!" Harry shouted, braver now that there was no longer a wand pointed at his face.

"You're _going_ to find out," Malfoy amended. "I told you, _Harry_. I'm doing nothing you haven't asked for."

"I haven't done anything to you," Harry snarled.

Malfoy just smiled. He reached over and began unbuttoning Harry's shirt. Harry flailed in a desperate attempt to hinder him but Malfoy's hands were steady and his fingers moved deftly. He took no time at all to open his shirt and run his hands along Harry's sternum. He pinched Harry's nipple between his fingers and Harry twitched.

_I'm not getting out of this, _he thought in dismay. _Not unless someone comes for me. _

Harry didn't know what his chances were of that happening. All he could remember was running through the labyrinth, nothing prior. Where he'd been before that, how he'd gotten there, and how long he'd been there were questions he desperately needed an answer to. Harry hoped he'd been gone long enough for his family and friends to start investigating. Somehow he doubted it, though.

If there ever was a time to regret his habit of going off the radar for long periods of time, it was then.

Malfoy's fingers trailed along the curve of Harry's chest. Every so often they'd brush against his hardening nubs and then trail away again to travel down the dip of his stomach. They'd sweep across his lower belly, skim the elastic of his underwear, then travel back up to restart the route.

Harry was mortified to find that he quite liked the sensation.

"Get off me!" He shouted, straining against his bonds. "Stop touching me!"

"I would, Potter, but I've gotten the impression that you _like _what I'm doing," Malfoy said, stroking Harry's shoulder for emphasis.

Harry shook his head. "Stop touching me!"

Malfoy's hand retracted and Harry almost wilted with relief. He had a hopeful thought that perhaps Malfoy had finally come to his senses when he felt a mouth clamp over his areola.

Harry gasped.

"W-what—stop that!"

Malfoy paid him no heed. He sucked on Harry's nub, circling it with his tongue and suckling it with his lips. Harry began to shake. His body stirred and he willed it not to respond. He was being _molested_, for fuck's sake. Even if his nipples were extremely sensitive there was no _excuse _for it.

_I'm going to be raped, _he thought, over and over.

Malfoy teased him with his teeth while his hand sought out Harry's other nipple. Harry snapped his eyes shut when Malfoy rubbed it between his fingers, pulled it, pushed it against his chest and circled it. A hot tongue dragged over the abused nub, flicked and lapped at it, and he bit back a groan.

It was as if Malfoy knew exactly what it was that Harry liked, which didn't make any sense.

"Get off of me!" Harry tried again.

Malfoy continued to ignore him. One of his hands slid down Harry's stomach and settled over his groin. He palmed at it as he mouthed his way up Harry's chest, to his neck and jaw. He sucked at a spot behind his ears that made Harry groan before he was hit by déjà vu.

Harry could feel himself hardening against Malfoy's palm. Malfoy squeezed him to let Harry know that he was aware of it.

Shame filled Harry's chest and darkened his cheeks. _Please go away_, he begged his erection._Please don't do this. _

He didn't want this. No matter how good it felt, _that _could not be disputed. That his body was betraying him in such a way made him want to scream and cry in equal measure.

Malfoy's hand slipped beneath the elastic and pulled Harry out. Harry gasped as the sensitive skin hit the air_. _He looked down to see Malfoy's fingers wrapped around him loosely and shut his eyes again.

"Please stop," he whispered. "Draco, _please_."

The hand on his cock and the mouth on his neck stilled.

He heard a hitch in Malfoy's breathing, no louder than the beat of a bird's wing. When he opened his eyes Malfoy's face was blurred.

"You want this," Malfoy said eventually and Harry felt his stomach sink like an anvil in the ocean. His next words killed the last dregs of Harry's hope. "You might not know it now, but you _do_. You _will_. Now _shh._ This is going to feel good." He began to stroke.

Harry was not ignorant of the reality or frequency of rape. As an auror he'd investigated such crimes more often than he'd liked, and the number of victims he'd had to collect statements from (while consoling) ranged high in the dozens. He'd noticed early on in his career that victims of rape made terrible witnesses because they tended to "leave the scene", as his supervisor once put it. Hermione had called it detachment.

While a part of him had bemoaned such occurrences (since it made his job a hell of a lot harder when the victims couldn't recall any incriminating information), a larger part had felt relieved that the men and women he'd had to interview had been allowed that small mercy.

Clearly, the universe was punishing him for the part that begrudged them their reprieve for the sake of paperwork because Harry could _not _get out of his head, try as he might. He tried to think about other things, tried to imagine himself someplace far away, tried to think of bloody _England_, but Harry's mind was clear and attuned to the proceedings as if he'd been _imperiused_ to do so.

Harry blinked. Imperius! That _had _to explain it. There was no other reason for this, none at all. Malfoy didn't act like the typical victim but it wasn't as if the curse was exactly black and white. There were a number of ways it could have gone wrong.

"Malfoy," Harry said urgently, doing his best to ignore the heat building in his cock. "Malfoy, listen to me. You've been cursed with the Imperius curse. This isn't you! You wouldn't do something like this! You can fight it! You can—"

Harry's babbling cut off at the sound of Malfoy's sharp laughter.

"I guarantee you that I'm _not _under the Imperius curse," he said in amusement, "but I thank you for your noble intent to save me from it, anyway." The ice that had begun spreading in the pit of Harry's stomach burned to an anger that made his vision go red. He lunged at Malfoy again, numb to the way the shackles were cutting into his skin.

"You bastard!" Harry roared, thrashing against his restraints. "You bastard! Let me go! I'll kill you! I'll kill you!"

Harry did not let up in his movements. The need to get Malfoy's weight off of him, the need to escape, the need to _hurt_ overwhelmed him. When Malfoy whispered "Yeah, Harry, just like that," the fury that boiled inside him exploded to a rage. The hem of Malfoy's robes caught fire and the flames spread rapidly, eating away at the material and ascending higher. Malfoy yelped and all but threw himself towards his wand. Sparks of red and yellow had just begun to erupt at the neck of his collar when he cooled the flames and spelled it away.

Harry's ire did not die with it.

Neither had Malfoy's intent.

He stalked towards Harry, his eyes darkening to a wrathful black. Smoke hissed from what was left of his tattered robes. He shrugged it over his head without a word, then moved on to unbuckle his pants.

"Don't you dare," Harry hissed at him. "You'll regret it, I swear you will."

Malfoy ignored him. He kicked off his boots, slid off his trousers and pants, then dropped in between Harry's knees. "It didn't have to be this way," Malfoy snarled over Harry's shouting. He banished Harry's trousers, then grabbed his knees and pushed them apart.

Harry did not stop struggling. Blood dribbled from his ankles and wrists and his back throbbed with pain from the jagged earth beneath him, but he did not stop trying to wrench away. Malfoy had to hold his legs down so tightly that bruises were already beginning to form on his skin. His nails felt like claws against the delicate flesh of Harry's thighs.

Malfoy transfigured a rock into a pillow, forced it under Harry's hips, then pointed the tip of his wand at Harry's arse. Harry stilled as something thick and oily filled him. He jerked as rough hands parted his cheeks and it dribbled out."You're going to like this, Potter," Malfoy said.

"Malfoy, don't—!"

He angled himself, secured Harry's hips, and pushed in.

Harry screamed in pain. It seemed to go on endlessly, wrought from a place inside of him he hadn't known existed, the sound foreign to his own ears. His entire body arched like a bow then convulsed, his lower half juddering in an attempt to get Malfoy off, to get him _out_.

He felt as if he were being split open as Malfoy pressed into him, moving too quickly for his body to acclimatize to his painful girth. His rim seared, stretched far past the point of durability, and his walls throbbed as Malfoy forced his way in. It was all-encompassing, the pain distending from the tips of his toes to the top of his head, burning him from the inside out and zapping away his strength.

Malfoy pushed in completely and drooped over Harry so that their chests touched. Harry wanted to shove him away, wanted to bite and scratch and punch the weight off of him, but he couldn't move. He was afraid that if he shifted even the tiniest inch he'd be torn open. So instead he lay there, trembling, as Malfoy stilled inside him and panted against his jugular.

"So tight," he murmured against Harry's burning skin, "feels so good, so tight."

And then he started to move.

Harry gasped. Pain flared in his arse as Malfoy's cock pulled all the way out, then went back in, again and again and again. The oil he'd filled Harry with did little to ease the burning of the stretch and the sting of his slide. Pain spread to his back, laced up his spine. _  
_  
For a long time Harry could hear nothing else but the sound of his gasps, Malfoy's pants, and the squelch of his cock as it slid inside him. He waited for his mind to flee the scene and find sanctuary in an illusory elsewhere but it never happened. Harry was stuck in the moment and there was no getting out of it. _  
_  
In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

After a while he lost track of the number of times Malfoy pushed himself inside Harry. He'd lost count at around sixty, distracted by Malfoy's hand snaking around his flaccid cock. He pulled at it slowly at first, then quickly, replicating the rhythm of his thrusts.

Eventually, the burning in his arse began to diminish, slackening from a sharp twinge to a dull ache. Then Malfoy shifted, repositioned his hips and thrust in at a different angle. Harry's cock twitched and began to fill.

_Nononono, _Harry thought. _No, please no. _

Malfoy hit the place inside him that made his body tingle and his toes curl. He hit it again and again; sending sparks that Harry tried to tell himself weren't pleasure, up and down his spine. The firm grip on his cock started to feel good in a way it hadn't yet, which only caused him to harden further. Harry closed his eyes and tried to force his body to go numb. He thought it had been working—until Malfoy reached up and pinched one of Harry's swollen nipples between his fingers and sensation washed over him as acutely as a wave.

Much to his horror he gasped, and there was no denying that the sound was anything but one of pleasure. Malfoy picked up the pace of his strokes and fondled Harry harder. Harry started to writhe and it had little to do with wanting Malfoy off him.

"I knew you'd love this," Malfoy hissed in his ear, his words coiling like the body of a snake. "Just look at you. You _want _this."

Harry shook his head in denial. He opened his mouth to refute it, to tell Malfoy to fuck right off, but Malfoy slammed into his prostate and evidence fell from his lips instead.

He moaned as Malfoy's pace quickened, both inside his arse and on his cock. He tried to push Malfoy away but he only laughed and shut his attempts down with well-angled thrusts.

Harry thought that if Malfoy didn't kill him, his shame might.

"Stop, Malfoy, stop," Harry pleaded. "Stop, let go of me, get off!"

"You're ridiculous," Malfoy panted. "Would it kill you—_ahh_—to just let go, Potter? To—_mm_—admit that you _want _me to fuck you, _want _me to make you come?"

Harry shook his head. He didn't want this, he _didn't_. He tried to struggle but it was pointless; he suspected that his bout of accidental magic had drained him more than he had thought._  
_  
"You feel so good," Malfoy licked the side of his face, making him shiver.

"F-fuck you," Harry snapped. The hand on his cock tightened and he groaned.

"Clenching around me like you don't want me to go," he continued breathlessly, "fucking yourself into the palm of my hand."

It wasn't until he said it that Harry realized it was true. He felt moisture gather at the corner of his eyes, a symbol of his shame. Malfoy was _raping _him, was violating him in the most atrocious way a person could, and Harry was rutting against him and moaning like a back alley _whore_.

For the first time that night Harry wished he wouldn't survive. Otherwise he'd never be able to look himself in the mirror again._  
_  
Malfoy's thumb pressed against the slit of his cock, smearing the precome. He raked his nails lightly up the underside of the shaft, tracing the bulging lines. He angled himself to hit Harry's prostrate harder, more deeply, until Harry was twitching under him, his fingers digging into the dirt deep enough they brushed small roots.

Harry could feel his orgasm coming, could feel it settling in the base of his stomach and beginning to radiate. He clenched tightly over Malfoy's cock, trying to stave it off or prod it along, he didn't know_. Good choice. _All he knew was that a burning, intoxicating sensation had spread all over him, buzzing beneath his skin and setting his nerves ablaze.

Malfoy's thrusts quickened further, and deepened until he rammed into Harry, hips snapping wildly, rhythm cracking at the edges. He dug one hand into Harry's hip, just above his pelvis pelvic bone, and Harry winced at the touch. Malfoy's other hand continued to fist his cock.

Harry shut his eyes and tried to stop his impending orgasm in its tracks. It wasn't right. It didn't matter that Malfoy was stimulating his body against his will, the fact that he reacted at all felt like an ultimate betrayal. His thighs quivered and his hands clenched with his efforts not to come. He refused to give that to Malfoy, refused to let him win.

Rape was rarely ever about sexual gratification, Harry knew; it was about control and Harry refused to give that to Malfoy.

As his body readied itself to find release, his mind desperately fought it off. He tried to detach himself from the sensation of being stretched and pounded into, of having his cock stroked by a warm, firm hand. He tried to step outside his body and view the situation from an outsider's perspective, tried to picture what they would see.

Harry pictured himself resembling a _victim, _dirty and bruised and absolutely helpless. His mind created a perceptible visualization of his invisible shackles, made them look iron rusted and stained with his blood. He imagined the swelling he must have on his face, the welts and gashes he'd gotten earlier.

He imagined Malfoy hovering over him, pasty white, like an inferi. He visualized him looking bigger—certainly bigger than he was—holding Harry down and touching his body in ways he didn't have the right.

It was working. Harry _knew _it was working. He could feel his orgasm receding like a line with a fallen hook. He sighed in relief when he felt his cock soften_._ It was just a little, but it was _something _and Harry would use that._  
_  
"So stubborn," Malfoy tutted against his ear before he sank his teeth into the soft flesh of Harry's lobe. Harry felt the sudden sensation of his nipple being pulled, pinched, _twisted_, and the last of his shaky resistance crumbled.

His orgasm crashed through him like a lightning bolt, hot and fierce and crushing. He opened his mouth and screamed, though what it sounded like he hadn't an idea. There was a rushing sound in his ear, deafening and static. White clouded his vision before the overpowering need to close his eyes won and his lids fluttered shut.

He shook in Malfoy's arms, barely aware that Malfoy was still frantically thrusting inside him. He stilled a moment later and Harry felt Malfoy's hot semen shoot inside him, filling him up._  
_  
Malfoy fell on top of him but Harry was too out of it to protest. He felt a hand brush aside his sweaty bangs and wipe away his pathetic tears. He wanted to say something, to _do _something, but darkness inched across his vision, encouraging him to succumb.

The last thing he was aware of before he was overtaken was a press of lips against his brow.

* * *

When Harry woke up, it was late in the afternoon. The sun shone brightly through the curtains, warming his skin. He sat up and stretched, grimacing when his whole body protested at the movement. He ached everywhere.

"You certainly took long enough," a voice said from across the room. "Lazy sod."

Harry swiveled his head in the direction the voice had come from.

Draco was standing on the other side of the room, back pressed against the door. He quirked an eyebrow at Harry and strode towards him, the hem of his robes swaying as he walked.

"How do you feel?" Draco asked. He leaned forward and pressed his palm against Harry's forehead, checking for fever. He eventually pulled away satisfied.

"Like I was run over by the Hogwarts Express," Harry rasped. Even talking hurt.

Draco snorted. "Here," he thrust a vial of something green and noisome in his face. Harry gave it a revolted look but gulped it down without a word. He did the same with the next four potions, each one viler than the last. By the time he'd finished the last one his mouth tasted a little like vomit, only worse.

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you were trying to kill me," Harry gagged into his sleeve. He was wearing one of Draco's pajamas—he certainly didn't own anything nearly as nice.

"Believe me, Harry, if I were trying to kill you, you'd know."

"So that's what sweet talk is like. I'd always wondered."

Draco rolled his eyes and swept a lock of his unruly dark hair behind his ear. He took a seat beside Harry, a bit further away than was necessary. Harry wanted to comment on it but the look in Draco's eyes stopped him short.

"How are you _really_?" he asked. His knuckles were white from where his hand gripped his robes.

Harry thought about it.

"I feel good," he said. "_Really _good."

"Are you certain?"

It was Harry's turn to roll his eyes. "Yes, Draco. I wouldn't lie to you about that."

"How's your head? All your memories still intact?"

Knowing that Draco needed Harry to be one hundred percent certain, he closed his eyes and looked inwards.

"Everything's in order," he said after a few minutes. He reached over to grab Draco's hand. It was clammy. "As you knew it would be. You wouldn't have allowed me to go through with it if you'd thought for a moment that you couldn't reverse the damage. Draco, everything is _fine_. Just as we planned it."

The sigh Draco released spoke volumes of how afraid he must have been.

"What about you?" Harry asked, noting the dark smudges beneath his eyes and the mottled bruise on the underside of his jaw. "Are _you _alright?"

"I'm not the one who was—"

Harry leaned forward and pressed a finger against his lips. "Oh, shut up, Draco. You know I wanted it. We _both _wanted it. I had months to change my mind and I never did—shouldn't that tell you something?"

Draco gripped Harry's hand and brought it down to his lap, cradling it.

"Perhaps, though fantasizing about something and having it _actually _happen are two entirely different things, Potter."

_So I'm 'Potter' now, am I?_ Harry refrained from flicking him in the forehead.

"It was different," he admitted. "Scarier, more real. But it was what I wanted."

"Such a freak," Draco murmured, closing the distance between them until they were side by side.

"Takes one to know one," Harry teased.

"Oh, shut up."

A long moment of silence passed between them, one that Harry felt disinclined to break. Draco was the one to shatter it.

"You were so scared," Draco whispered hoarsely. "I almost called it off... more than a few times."

Thinking back on last night, Harry knew it to be true.

"I'm glad you didn't, though." Harry said, just as truthfully. "I was terrified then, yeah, but now…" He looked slyly at Draco. "Now it feels like a really fucking hot memory, to be honest."

Draco burst into surprised laughter. He turned his body and placed his chin on Harry's shoulder so that Harry could feel the vibrations of his laugh. He smiled in turn.

"Merlin, I can't believe we actually went through with it," Harry found himself saying. The memory of being violated was still fresh in his mind, as sharp and clear as if he'd had a video implanted. He could still remember the stark terror and fury and shame of last night, but it was muted now, dull around the edges, muddled with the rest of his memories and softened in consequence.

_Which is definitely a good thing_. He wasn't sure how he would have reacted had the experience been more vivid.

"Clearly, you're insane and have infected me with your madness," Draco said.

Harry elbowed him in the side and Draco retaliated by pulling a lock of his hair. He then tried to soothe it back down, to no avail.

"Was it good for you, then?" Harry asked. He leaned onto Draco more heavily. He didn't seem to mind.

"I felt terribly guilty most of the time," he admitted, "but I also found it, well, hot, so it just…"

"Made you feel even guiltier?" Harry guessed.

"Yeah."Draco nodded sheepishly.  
_  
_"And now?"

He thought about it for a moment. "Mostly good," Draco said. "Knowing that you aren't running off screaming certainly helps."

Harry huffed out a laugh.

"And you? I know that during—well, now, I mean. Are you sure you don't regret it?

Harry tilted Draco's head towards him and kissed him deeply. Draco's mouth was hot and tasted like tea and peppermint. He smelled clean, like bath soap and shaving cream. His skin felt soft against him, warm.

He broke away to whisper against his lips, "It was everything I asked for."

Draco smiled. "Just like I told you, then."

Harry grabbed the front of his robes, pushed him down and climbed on top of him. _  
_  
"Mm—yeah."

* * *

**_The End_**

* * *

**Note: **Two readers admitted that they didn't understand what happened so let me clarify.

**1.** The rape scenario was planned _by _Draco and Harry. Draco performed a spell that temporarily locked away all Harry's memories of him. It's a bit like _obliviate _in that it leaves the recipient disoriented and the caster can leave a parting suggestion/compulsion. Draco performed the spell in the middle of the labyrinth and his suggestion was that Harry should run (the opening of the fic).

**2. **Afterward Draco reversed the effects of the spell and Harry regained all his memories, which is the main reason he didn't freak out when he woke up. Knowing that it had been planned all along, that it was _his _choice, and that the person who assaulted him was his lover soothed the terror of the rape and gave him his sense of control back.

**3.** "_Draco smiled. "Just like I told you, then." - _If you remember, Draco repeatedly told Harry that he was doing only what Harry had asked of him, though at the time Harry didn't know what he was talking about because of the memory loss.

**I hope this helps. **I'll be revising this soon so please let me know if there's anything you had trouble understanding. I need to make sure I wasn't being too ambiguous with the second half. I'll probably include a prologue, just in case.

Thanks for reading! I hope you'll let me know what thought about it.


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